The Gotham Diaries
by DevilCuriosity
Summary: Where you went, I followed. For each day that I loved you, I said not a word in protest. But our past has a way of coming back to us. Would that I could face my darkest demons in broad daylight. Would I raze this world for you? Who else do we have left to love if not our own blood? This is a story told from the revolving character perspectives of Bane, Talia and Bruce.
1. Prologue

_Holy water cannot help you now.  
A thousand armies couldn't keep me out.  
I don't want your money.  
I don't want your crown.  
See, I've come to burn your kingdom down._

Florence + The Machine

* * *

**Prologue**

"Ra's Al Ghul didn't have a son." Her voice was soft and her eyes were fixed on the steel construct that had been his face all these years. "I was born in that prison," she said as she then turned to the figure robed in black. Before he could respond, she knew the dagger had struck flesh. "Fate is an interesting thing, is it not?" She smiled and twisted the dagger deeper. Whether he gasped out of shock or pain, it was no matter. He was one man among millions. All the money in the world couldn't save Bruce Wayne now, no more than his Kevlar did.

"I climbed out of the Pit shortly after my mother died," she said as she watched Gotham's dark knight stiffen with shock. With her fingers gripped comfortably around the Turkish hilt of the dagger, her gaze turned to Bane. "I found my father and brought him back to exact terrible vengeance, but by that time the prisoners and doctors had done their work on my friend, my protector." She began connecting each titanium conduit back to its rightful place and waited until his breathing slowed. Her eyes never left his. "The league took us in and trained us but my father could not accept Bane, he only saw a monster whose very existence was a reminder of the hell he left his wife to die in. He excommunicated Bane from the League of Shadows." She raised a finger to smooth away the wetness from the corners of his reddened eyes. "His only crime was that he loved me." She smiled tenderly at Bane, her eyes full of longing and sadness. A moment later, she pulled the detonator out of her coat pocket and examined it admiringly, this being the reward for her patience through the years. Minutes passed before she turned back to Bruce, her eyes shining with resolve. She stared at him for what seemed an eternity. And then she pushed the button.

Somewhere far along the coast line, she heard the initial thrum of impact. The world grew very still and then something stirred deep in the layers of the earth, as if a beast had been roused from slumber.

At that moment, she knew it was all in motion. She knew her time had come.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So I became borderline _obsessed _with the relationship between Talia and Bane after seeing the film. After my 2nd viewing, I just couldn't get over the scene above. When Talia looks at Bane and says the line about him loving her, I couldn't even! Then I was rummaging through all the fanfic communities like a crazy person, trying to satiate this growing beast of mine. Alas, I decided to explore this pairing myself and write in the direction my emotions take me. I hope you've enjoyed the read so far. More to come!


	2. Chapter 1: Bane

**Bane**

"How can you say such things?" A female voice had said. There was a shuffle of movement and he heard a door open and close. There was some kind of mechanical contraption nearby, producing a slow but audible buzzing.

"I will not have this criminal taken into my temple," said a soft but stern male voice seconds later. "This type of man is unteachable, he is unredeemable."

"You _will _have the doctors finish their work," the female voice replied, this time more sharply. "You speak of new beginnings and the dawn of justice and yet, you yourself had once thrown away your family." The silence had suddenly grew thick. "Or have you forgotten?" She asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "All of this doesn't amount to the life I was given before I found you." Her words had a ringing finality to it, signaling that this was the end to their discussion. "He will not live in pain any longer," she finished. "We will meet you at the temple once his recovery is complete."

A moment later, he heard the shuffle of heavy footsteps as the door opened and closed once more. He wondered whether he had been dreaming, though the voices seemed real enough. Then a jolt of pain broke him out of consciousness. His head was throbbing and the pain grew more agonizing. His face felt as if it were on fire. A long burning fire, searing flesh and muscle and bone. It had reached such a climax that he blacked out seconds later.

An hour past midnight, his eyes fluttered open. The room was dark, save for the space by the window that was illuminated by a small lamp. There Talia had situated herself, her head resting on the glass as she flipped through the pages of a book. She was, even by way of a dimming hospital lamp, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her hair flowed down past her shoulders in loose tawny curls. Her eyes were like that of a painting - deep green pools surrounded by the smoky darkness of her lashes. Her lips were full and rouged. The years that passed between them had only made her more lovely by all conventional standards, but her face remained the same as he always remembered it to be. He knew that heart-shaped frame of a face more than he knew himself. Just as he thought this, she turned up from her book and smiled.

"You're awake," she said softly as she made her way to him. She pulled a nearby chair and drew closer. He felt the instant warmth of her hand close around his. And she smiled at him again, so lovingly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as his fingers clutched onto hers.

Their escape from the Pit had been a blur. He only remembered a fleeting subsistence after the mob of prisoners had torn his face to pieces. He had lived each hour in agony, wondering when his time would come. He expected an unforgiving death and after all, why not? _There is no such thing as an honorable killer, _he thought bitterly to himself. As the days wore on, he thought of Talia every waking moment, wondering whether she had survived or died or worse. But as the desert sun shone mercilessly into the Pit one afternoon, a troupe of assassins had sabotaged the prison and killed each prisoner in turn, all except him. He remembered her eyes and her lips amidst his haze of semiconsciousness as the pain in his face had overcome the rest of his senses. And now the soft cushion of a bed supported his feeble body, and the slow buzzing of the contraption beside him was doing its work. He opened his eyes and turned to Talia.

"The doctors say they can't make you whole again," she said. "They say the pain will be excruciating for as long as you live." Her brow furrowed. "But I've gathered the best team of engineers and surgeons in the world. We'll find a way to isolate this pain so you won't suffer as you did before." She smiled a melancholy smile and then nodded to herself. "I can't forgive myself for what they did to you," she said as her eyes glistened with unfallen tears. At this, he lifted his hand and cupped her small face. She held his hand there and closed her eyes.

After a few moments of silence, she lowered his hand back to the bed as her fingers entangled themselves around his once more. "I love you," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. "And I promise you will never be in pain again." And it was as if her words had lulled him into a sleepy reverie because his lids became heavy and his pain had momentarily subsided, if only for a moment. He felt a sudden exhaustion wash over him. "Rest, my friend," she said as she placed a gentle kiss over each of his eyes. "I'll be here in the morning." With that, he heard the soft _click _of the door as it closed behind her.

_We are together again, _Bane thought as he drifted into a drug-induced sleep. _Together again._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I'm trying out a new form of writing I've never done before - writing in 3rd person from a specific character's point of view. Much the same way George RR Martin did in his Ice & Fire series. Although nowhere near as brilliant as he is, it's nice to write this way because I get to tell the story but I still get inside the character's head.

So, thoughts on Talia and Bane... they've experienced more tragedy together than anyone else. I think Talia found her father but that in no way means she was "finishing his work" for him alone. She had her reasons. She's a smart woman and when it comes down to it, I'd like to think she knows where her loyalties and love lie. And the same goes for Bane - he may have been a cold killer later in his life but he's far more sensible than most people. Together, they share their own secret bond. No one on the outside looking in needs to know this and why should they? What they share is bone-deep, it never runs dry and it'll never be broken. This is the underlying current I'm using for this story as I move further...


	3. Chapter 2: Bruce

**Bruce**

The curtains were mostly drawn, save for the sliver of light that shone into the massive room. Before he opened his eyes to rise, Miranda was already on top of him. "Good morning," she said hoarsely as she planted a kiss on his lips. She tasted of cinnamon and lust, wine and satisfaction. He liked the deepness of her voice in the morning. His arms were spread out like wings beside him. When he lifted his head to look at the clock, she pinned him to the floor with another kiss.

"It's already noon," he said, his eyes following the sliver of light out to the balcony. He laughed as he turned back to her. She was comfortably mounted on top of him, as naked as her name day. Her curves were as delicate as that of a rose. The dark line of hair between her legs was partially exposed, the rest hidden behind the crimson silk sheet that draped him. He felt a familiar tingling sensation when his hands began their journey upwards, starting first at her thighs, ever soft and fleshy. His fingers traveled past the line of her hips and then to her small waist. Alas, they found her torso and his thumbs ran slow circles around a few scars. Then he came to her breasts and his forefingers drew more circles around her dark nipples. They stiffened at his touch. He felt her tense up and release a sigh of pleasure as she closed her eyes. She leaned back and his hands fell to her stomach, resting there.

"I'm yours," she said in a quivering voice, her eyes still closed. She spread her legs further now, and he felt his manhood stiffen under the sheet. For some odd reason it took him a moment to realize what she had just said. A second later, he was fumbling to remove the silk sheet that was between them but found it near impossible to do. It was... _stuck_. Unmovable. He lifted himself off the ground for a moment and tugged at it once again, to no avail. He looked back up at Miranda. She still had her eyes closed and that same hazy expression on her face. She didn't seem to notice what he was trying to do. But just as this thought ran off like a marquee in his head, she opened her eyes and looked at him. With a strangely quizzical expression she asked, "Master Wayne?"

_Master Wayne? _He looked at her, confused. "Miranda?" He asked. "Are you alright?" She looked at him hard and then hovered over him, like an ominous storm cloud. "Master Wayne?" She asked again, now shaking him with a force he didn't realize she had. He was suddenly disoriented to such a degree that he had no idea what to do. There she was, naked, hovering over him and assaulting him out of his reverie. He was motionless, silenced by his own shock. And then a sudden blackness draped over him and the room, along with Miranda, had disappeared.

"Master Wayne?" A distant voice had called yet again. _What the hell_, he thought sourly. He felt movement come back to his arms and legs. He stretched and rolled over, still draped in fading darkness. Within a few seconds, he fell into a pit of space until the ground came up to meet him with a crushing force. He opened his eyes to an unforgivingly bright nine o'clock Gotham sun and the unavoidable sight of Alfred. He groaned.

"Are you alright, master Wayne?" Asked Alfred innocently, although there may have been a hint of amusement in that tone.

"No, Alfred," he moaned. He was going to retort with a bit of morning sarcasm but then felt the wetness in his boxer briefs and realized what had happened. "I... had a bad dream," he said feebly. Unfortunately, Alfred knew everything and this was no exception. He placed the crimson silk sheet over his master and headed for the door. "I'll prepare the morning tea," he said placidly as he left.

Bruce Wayne turned over and spread himself across the ground, letting the sunlight bathe him in its warmth. He stared at his intricate ceiling and sighed. _"She's quite lovely," _Alfred had told him a couple of weeks ago. Then Lucius conveniently reiterated the same thought a week later. The more he thought of Miranda Tate, the less reasons he came up with not to take a... _personal _interest in her. It was a definite possibility. He couldn't remember when he last touched a woman. Someone he wanted to touch, who wanted to be touched by him. No pretenses or consequences. In the years following Rachel's death, he wallowed in his own misery. Comically enough, this morning's wet dream had woken what he thought to be lost. He had been going through the motions but didn't _live _in the last few years. It was time for change. He could feel it in the air this morning.

_Miranda Tate, _he thought to himself as he rose and made his bed. _She could be lovely. _With this, his mind had suddenly cleared. He knew the grief had been flushed out in his deepest core. It was finally time to let go.

* * *

He walked into the massive stone kitchen and saw Alfred making his morning preparations, shouting orders at the other servants. He would mention the necessity for _English tea _or _non-fat muffins _or _Tuscan omelettes. _He hadn't ventured this far down the mansion in what seemed like months. He had managed to virtually seclude himself from both the outside world and his own. As he stopped at the doorway, one of the pretty bed maids blushed and then said, "Good morning, sir." The kitchen had grown steadily quiet as everyone turned to him. He looked at the smiling faces and the puzzled ones. Then he saw Alfred standing behind the sea of servants in the back. He was smiling.

"Please, don't let me stop you," the master of the estate had said with a booming voice. He smiled a reassuring smile and with that, everyone resumed to their morning bustle. Alfred was weaving through the bodies from the back to get to him. He had a teacup in his hand. "It's good to have you back, Master Wayne." He placed a hand on his loyal butler's shoulder and squeezed tight. "Thank you, Alfred." There was a momentary pause as he smiled and looked around at the servants. "Meet me downstairs," he finished. Alfred nodded.

His underground quarters were the only location he had used regularly within the past 8 years. It was always cold in there, the black stone slick with water. The sound of that waterfall brought comfort to him and the screeching of the bats that nestled in the cave ceiling even more so. They were like a hidden guardian force, always watching and waiting. And there in that center stood his elevated intelligence system. Alfred found his master perched in front of the massive monitors as he flipped through the _Gotham Daily_.

"I picked the right time to come back," Bruce said as he handed the morning paper to Alfred.

"Bane," confirmed Alfred. He folded the paper and tucked it under one arm. "He was exiled from the League of Shadows."

"And trained under Ra's Al Ghul, yes," he said. "They're calling him Gotham's next great reckoning."

"If I may be so bold," began Alfred, his face perfectly expressionless, "a man who was misliked by Ra's Al Ghul is a man best not trifled with."

"No one's immortal, Alfred. Not even Ra's Al Ghul himself."

"That may be true, Master Wayne," said Alfred, "but you must be careful. Eight years is a long time."

"I'm always careful," he said with a smirk. Eight years may have been a long time but he wasn't stupid. He knew the looming threat that aimless mercenaries had posed, especially those exiled from a group such as the League of Shadows. He turned to his monitors and began a search for Bane's whereabouts. "Why Gotham?" He mused, skimming through clippings and police reports of underground nuclear activity and an ever-growing band of these mercenaries roaming the streets.

"It could be a trap," answered Alfred. There was a momentary silence as they pondered the possibilities. "We've seen a number of amateur vigilantes try to lure Batman out of his cave. Who is to say Bane is not attempting to do the same?"

"He must be working for someone else," Bruce concluded. "An assassin from the League of Shadows was no more than a bonafide killer. Executing orders is second nature." A pause. "But unlike the known spy, they're trained to execute their orders to completion." He looked up at Alfred ominously. "Dead or alive."

"You mean to say that Bane is following someone else's word?" Asked Alfred.

"Someone who is connected to Ra's Al Ghul," he finished with a nod. "Someone who knows exactly what they're doing."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

1. I'm excluding Catwoman from this story because I'm trying to keep this close between Talia, Bane and Bruce. Don't get me wrong, though. I love Selina Kyle! Meow.

2. I see Alfred being more of who he was in The Animated Series and not as opinionated as Michael Caine's version. He's always been the quiet force of reckoning in Bruce's life, more an essential partner in crime than a fatherly figure, although he could very well fulfill that role if ever needed.

3. Last, I wanted to spotlight Bruce Wayne because he'll be the one interacting with both Talia and Bane at different points. And well duh - he _is _Batman.

Hope you've enjoyed this so far. I know that my sequence of events occurs a bit slowly and there's nothing crazy going on, but I like to dive into the interactions/psychology of the characters. And I wrote these first 3 parts to give enough of a foundation for you to want to stay with me as I continue, because even I have no idea where this will go! Reviews are most welcome.


	4. Chapter 3: Talia

**Talia**

Talia Al Ghul was born in hell. The worst kind of hell - man-made and fortified to ensure that no one escaped alive. If you meant to climb the tunnel to the sky, you had best prepare to escape this life as a bloody bag of bones. Those who tried had failed, each and every time.

She often dreamt of that place. The familiar scent of human waste hung thickly in the air. That uneven stone pattern in the wall was everywhere she looked. Then there were the eyes of all the prisoners. They were always there, always staring. They were hungry eyes, glazed by malice.

"They have been here most of their life," Bane told her one afternoon. His voice was much softer than he looked, the English lilt giving him a misplaced kind of grace. She sat in one corner of the cell as she listened, her eyes glued to him. "Many of them have never seen someone like you," he said as he looked at her with hard eyes. "You are," he began but then paused as he pondered the right words, "you are pure."

She didn't know what to make of that. What did purity matter if she was to live the rest of her life in this place? Sometimes Bane's words didn't make sense in her 13-year-old head. She was certain he saw the puzzlement on her face because he smiled. He beckoned for her to come sit by him on the cot. A few minutes of silence passed between them. She liked being this close to him, he was always so warm. "Why are _you_ here?" She asked after a time. She had been thinking this for the past few days as she took note of the kinds of men who were imprisoned here. He looked down at her, still smiling. "I'm not a very good person," he said. He didn't look too bothered by this fact, except his eyes had betrayed him. They always did with her. All the same, him not being a good person didn't make sense to her either. He was the one who saved her, he was her _protector_.

Bane was a man of many actions and few words. When he did speak, however, his words were chosen carefully, almost artfully. She liked it when he told her stories because it sounded as if he were reading a poem aloud. He was tall and lean, handsome by rugged standards. His hair was cropped short, giving him the appearance of a war-worn Marine. His scars had given him menacing appeal and it seemed like most men were terrified of him, despite him being relatively new to the prison. There were whispers of the atrocities he had committed at so young an age, and more whispers of how he was doomed to spend the rest of his long life in this hole. Regardless of whatever rumor she'd heard, she believed none of it. Why should she? To her 13-year-old self, he committed none such atrocities on her and as far as she was concerned, her freedom would mean his as well one day. She wouldn't go where he wasn't going to be. It was just that simple.

"Your innocence will always protect you," he said to her as he cupped her chin and looked into her face one night. She saw a raging sea behind his bright blue eyes, the waters teeming before a storm. "It will carry you wherever you wish to go." This, of all things, made sense to her. He always told her to be cautious, to take good care of herself. He taught her how do everything she could on her own. He gave her his strength, his love and his protection but he said that in time, even these things would be gone.

She hadn't realized her time had come so soon. That morning, a mutiny had broken out in the prison and he was caught in the middle of it. She only remembered his strong arms wrapped around her as he fought to get her onto the ledge. Men were throwing fists and curses at him from all angles but he seemed to be made of stone as he continued moving through the sea of blood. When he told her to climb onto the ledge, she grabbed hold and elevated herself to safety. She turned around and looked back at him one last time. His eyes were burning blue as he looked at her. _Run, little one, _she heard him say almost instinctually, _take care of yourself. _With that, he threw himself back into the pit of bodies.

_Your innocence will always protect you_, she heard him say over and over again as she grew into the woman she was later in life. It was like a mantra in her head, never to be forgotten.

* * *

She had a mess of paperwork covering the table. There was so much to do; hospital bills to settle, contracts to sign. She was rummaging through the layers of paper when she saw what she was looking for. She unfolded today's _Gotham Daily _and skimmed the headlines before her gaze settled on the gigantic portrait of Bruce Wayne. _Gotham's Billionaire Playboy is Back! _The headline read. She thumbed through the first few sections until she came to the main story on page eight. She was staring at the timeline they had mapped out, from when Bruce had disassociated himself from Gotham's elite social circle to his recent disappearance. She smirked, half amused and half sorry for the billionaire. As she continued through the remaining sections of the paper, she suddenly felt it. That familiar tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She knew his eyes were on her. "Do you always have to do that?" She said as she turned around. Bane was sitting on the corner closest to her, an arm resting on the top edge of the couch while the other lay comfortably in his lap. She didn't even hear him enter the room. His eyes crinkled into what she knew was a smile. She returned it all too easily.

Regardless of the steel construct that had now become part of his face, he was still very capable of making the hairs on her neck stand on end. It had been 10 months since the surgery. He was recovering every day, becoming healthier and stronger and more eloquent with that mask. Her eyes roamed the expanse of his muscled body and she just couldn't help herself. She saw how that simple khaki t-shirt had hugged his torso so well and how toned his biceps were as his arm stretched over the edge of the couch. And how those dark jeans had outlined his long thighs as he sat there, his legs spread wide. She came to the unsettling realization that she had always loved that skin of his, spotted and scarred and sunburnt, ever since she was a little girl. Except that now her fascination with him was of a different sort. A gaping hole seemed to be growing inside her as she spent each passing day with him during his recovery. It was a kind of aching void, as if some dark monster had been lurking within her, ready to be roused at any given moment. She had always loved him but never to the point of intimacy, although her body had been telling her otherwise for the past 10 months. She hoped against hope he didn't realize any of this and if he had, he gave no sign of it. Bane was nothing if not a gentleman.

"Talia," Bane said, his mechanical voice oddly melodious, "are you alright?" She blinked and then looked at him. A slow blush worked its way up her cheeks. "I'm fine," she said with a smile. She rose from the dining table and came over to sit beside him. "How are you feeling?" She asked, thankful for the readily available change of subject. She looked at the conduits on the mask and then at him. "Was there any pain last night?" He nodded, his eyes never leaving her for a second. She could tell he had a faint smile under that mask as he watched her examine him for the umpteenth time. When she concluded that everything was in working condition, she dropped her hands to her lap and sighed. She noticed that the arm Bane had draped over the edge of the couch was now placed across her shoulders. She was closer to him, her body fitting into all of his muscled curves. And his warmth sent chills up her spine. He had always been so warm.

"I'm getting comfortable with this mask," said Bane. "but I'd like to see how much pain I can tolerate without it once in a while." She didn't like the idea but there were always accommodations they could make for when he wasn't wearing the mask.

"I have a mix the doctors had given me," she said as she looked up at him. "You can take them before you remove the mask and we can see if it works." He nodded, his eyes still barely crinkled at their corners, that faint smile still there. He had been so patient, so unwavering. He had endured every agonizing moment of pain without protest. He always listened to her. The beast inside her had been stirring yet again. She threw an arm around his torso and snuggled into his body further, his warmth hitting her like the sun after a cold dawn. She heard the mask hiss as he inhaled and then exhaled. His heart beat slow and rhythmic, like that of distant war drums. It was peaceful in the next few moments as they sat close to each other, listening to the silence, their thoughts far and away.

"Are you not angry with me?" She asked after a time, pulling herself away to look up at him. His brow furrowed in mild confusion. "Why would I be angry with you?"

She had been thinking about it for the past few weeks. If there was any emotion to feel, it should've been anger. Undiluted, unfiltered anger. If she were in Bane's shoes, she would exact the proper kind of vengeance upon those who had caused her suffering. There was no doubt about it. Bane's reaction to all the events in his life up to this point had puzzled her. He was unfailingly calm about everything that had happened. Why? If anything, he should've been angry with her for leaving him in that prison.

"I left you to die there," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"No, Talia," Bane nodded in disagreement, "if you stayed, you would have been killed."

"But what of the men who did this to you? What of that doctor who failed you?" Her voice almost became shrill as she thought of the doctor who never liked Bane, the one who could've helped him but didn't.

"What of them?" He asked, his voice calm. "I can't turn back the clock, no more than you. What happened to me would have come sooner than later. Whatever anger I have won't allow me to remove this mask and speak to you as I once did." He looked down at her hand in his lap and took hold of it, his long fingers tangling themselves around hers. "We all have our fate," he said. "For all that I've done, I've accepted what punishment has come my way. Yet I am sitting with you now, far from that prison." He cupped her chin as he looked into her green eyes. "My fate appears much brighter than I might have dreamt."

In that moment, she wanted so much to kiss him. Instead, she cupped his face and looked into the blue pools of his eyes. They were burning blue again, like wildfire. Her hands traveled from his face to his neck, down his chest and his torso, until they found both his hands. She lifted those hands and kissed them. She held them to her chest and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, Bane had taken hold of his hands and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her into a fierce embrace. And then she was crying, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her tears staining his skin and his shirt. She shuddered as the tears came down like a thrashing waterfall, but his warm arms held her still. He hugged her closer to him, pressing her against him, his hands running up and down her back in a soothing motion. As her sobs grew still and she inhaled gulps of air at a time, he held her close.

She had wept for all her anger at the world, for everyone and everything she hated so ferociously, for leaving him behind. Another beast in the pit of her stomach vowed vengeance, regardless of the cause. In that moment, she closed her eyes and concentrated on his beating heart. She was warm and safe in his arms. Bane had become her protector once again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I wanted to have so much more dialogue in this chapter but I just got too introspective with Talia. Whatevs. This turned out to be dramatic enough and I can get into more dialogue with Bane's chapter next. Some things to note...

I made Talia 13-years-old because I think she's mature enough to understand human emotion but innocent enough to see the world in an unfiltered, literal way. I could expand on this in later chapters if we ever flash back to her time in the Pit.

Thanks to reviewer Belle de Sainte Ange, I'm beginning to see Bane in a more poetic, eloquent form than I formerly imagined him to be. I've read one too many fics where he's just a rasping oaf and I wanted to give some background to his character, the fact that he's a quiet guy but says what he needs to say only when necessary, etc. Also - Bane understands karma (what goes around comes around) so I don't see him lashing out at Talia in anger. Smart guy.

Could you ladies and gents please review and let me know what's up? REVIEWS WOULD BE MOST WELCOME!


	5. Chapter 4: Bane

_I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz  
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:  
I love you as certain dark things are loved,  
secretly, between the shadow and the soul._

Pablo Neruda

* * *

**Bane**

The water hit his lips, warm and sweet and exhilarating. Like an Arabian summer night. Like fallen fruit that basked under the sun for a time. The wind had slapped his face like the hand of a spoiled lover. He felt the corners of his mouth curl upward into a grin. What immense pleasure he took from such simple things.

For a moment, he was whole again.

But the pain hit him like a jolt of thunder, knocking him out of his reverie. Once it hit, it stirred and then spread. His face was burning again, the deep stabs shooting in one direction and then another, their trails searing a line of flame everywhere. His vision became blurred as his eyes watered, the extremity of the ache so nearly unbearable that he thought he might give out. For a moment he had opened his mouth to scream but he couldn't even do that as the agony leapt back at him. He felt each fiber of flesh rip open anew and it was an absolute nightmare. He stumbled into the bathroom and nearly knocked everything off the counter before finding the emergency mix of medication that Talia had set aside. He drowned the pills in one gulp and cupped the small sink with both hands, steadying himself. He looked up and winced at his reflection. Through his still foggy vision he saw his damaged face for the first time in a long time. It was a bloody mess of stitches and what was left of his mouth. Whole chunks of flesh were gone and what remained wouldn't serve any other purpose than eating or drinking. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the effects of the medication kick in. The pain in his face had subsided and for a moment, the world around him was still again. He splashed cold water on his face as gingerly as possible, making sure not to aggravate the fresh wound as he did so.

He found her sitting in the nook by the kitchen window. She forked a piece of crepe into her small mouth as she turned a page in her book. She smiled as her eyes traveled from left to right and then top to bottom. He liked to watch her read whenever he got the chance. She was entranced and far away, all of her present concerns and troubles gone. In those moments he knew she was happiest. He was leaning on the frame of the doorway that led back to the bedroom corridor, his arms crossed comfortably across his broad chest. At the right angle, you could get a full view of the kitchen without really being seen. But just as he thought this, he knew she knew he was looking. He smiled beneath his mask as she looked up. "Good morning," she said softly.

"Good morning," he said as he walked over to her. The smell of freshly roasted coffee sifted through the conduits on his mask and he breathed it in with a mournful sigh. To consume a liquid such as coffee would be like pouring acid on his skin. It just couldn't happen. He sat himself on the chair closest to her. Their knees brushed each other for a moment before she looked up.

"This is a great book," she said before closing it shut. She finished the last of her breakfast and then raised the cup of Lady Grey to her mouth.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said. He had gifted her this book on her birthday last month. He knew she liked these kinds of historical novels, the ones involving old kings and queen regents. He couldn't help but notice how she had very much resembled the fierce heroines in her novels. Whether she knew this, he couldn't say.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked as she lowered her teacup.

"I woke up to a bit of pain," he said, thinking of the agony he experienced this morning, "but the medication is coming into effect."

"Good," she said, "let me know when you're ready to remove the mask and we can check the wound." Talia had become surprisingly gifted at assessing his recovery progress. This was expected as she spent every waking moment with him, even on nights when he couldn't sleep because it had been too much. She had become his doctor of sorts and he had no problem trusting her judgment. She was as meticulous as she was loving and she knew exactly what she was doing. "I spoke to the head of surgery," she said after a moment as she crossed one leg over the other underneath the table. "He said this was as good a time as any to have us try things without the mask." She raised a hand and her fingers slid over the titanium conduits that pumped all that medication into his face, keeping the pain at bay. His eyes never left her as he watched the troubled fascination form on those delicate features. "One day at a time," she said as her hand fell away.

"Talia," he said as his eyes remained on her, "I don't know if my joining the League is a good idea." It didn't matter whether he broached this subject now or later. They had to discuss the reality of the situation at some point.

"No," she said softly, not disagreeing with him but refusing to accept otherwise. "You must join my father. I want you to become strong, to be able to do as you will."

"That is his domain," he said as he thought of the looming temple at the top of those snowy mountains. "He has no love for me."

"He doesn't need to have love for you," she said. "I asked this of him and he can't refuse me." After a moment, she took a sip of tea and put the cup down. "Besides," she said with a smirk, "he wishes to separate us and this is the most convenient way." There _was_ that, Bane thought to himself. He had no real opinion of her father's intentions because he was not one to assume so quickly. The man he met had been cold to him, but he didn't know him so who was he to draw conclusions? He knew that what he and Talia shared was not a thing to be broken so easily. He was comfortable with their relationship so there was no fear of distance or separation. He was staring at the cover of the book that had been lying on the table when he looked back at her.

"Train with my father, Bane," she said at last. "Learn his unparalleled skills in defense and discipline and you will become untouchable." She turned her body so that she was now facing him. Her hand rested on his forearm. It was warm and soft and soothing as she always was. "I won't be far," she finished. "My father can put a sea between us but I will still come and see you. I'll have to learn my way of the League as well."

"And what if I say no?" He asked as he leaned forward, his eyes giving his intentions away all too easily. His mask hissed as his breathing grew a little hoarse. "What will you do then?" She smiled, inches away from his face and chuckled. Oh, she was so beautiful up close. Every fiber of her being breathed life into him. His pain subsided and he felt a different kind of fire spread wherever she touched him. He could almost taste her breath through his mask for a millisecond. An all too fleeting millisecond.

"You can't say no to me," she said. Her hands found his mask again as her fingers slid over all that shiny metal. Then they found his chest and he pulled her in close so that her legs were wedged between his. They sat there for what seemed like an eternity, so much desire brewing and so much restraint to be had. It wasn't the right time. There was so much to be done, it would be foolish to try anything now.

_But when would the right time come? _Bane thought. _In another 10 years? _The idea was somehow unsettling to him. He realized there would never be a right time, that it would have to simply happen. And she had been so loyal and loving to him throughout this entire process. How had he become so fortunate to have such a dame in his life? The thought was almost inconceivable. There were many times when he pondered on the nameless male prospects she could've had. She was a stunning woman by all standards and any man with half his wits would've seen that. Yet she had eyes only for him. He knew he had belonged to her the moment he saw her face again in that prison. And here she was beside him, every hour of every day, never faltering. _I am hers as much as she is mine, _he thought, a sense of contentment washing over him.

* * *

"Surely, you see where my problem lies," said the master of the temple. He stood before Bane and looked down at him, his brow furrowed in a rehearsed kind of apprehension. His eyes bore into his subject for a moment longer before he strode to the window. "All this must continue well after my time," he said as he watched a fox run into a nearby hole from the morning snowfall. "Talia must learn the principles of true justice and the doctrines of our league. She is a woman grown and she will one day reign over this temple." He crossed his hands behind his back as he looked on.

Bane sat on a crate and leaned forward as he rested his elbows on his knees, both hands crossed. His gaze never left the ground as he listened to these words. Sharp words, meant to cut deeper than steel. His mask hissed as he breathed in the cold air of that drafty room. He knew this conversation would come and he had been waiting for it. Ra's Al Ghul was not a man to be challenged, that much was clear, but he was still only a man. A man who had become greedy and lost sight of what he once dreamed. He wanted justice no more than Bane had wanted the mask that he now lived with. No, what he wanted was power, as so many others had wanted before him. _You're not the first, _Bane thought, _and you won't be the last._

"You are a man of few words," said Ra's Al Ghul after a time. He turned and looked down at Bane once more.

"And you are a man of many," said Bane as he looked up. "There is no need to be modest with me." He stood and saw a flash of something unreadable in the older man's face. "If you wish for Talia to learn your ways, far be it from me to interfere with that. I can take my leave."

"Tell me," Ra's Al Ghul began as he looked at him with flashing eyes, "what does justice mean to one such as yourself?"

"Justice," Bane said with an almost comical undertone. "You speak of justice too freely." His mask hissed menacingly as he grew annoyed. "You're a disillusioned man if you think that what you have here exemplifies _justice_. You've masked your greed and lust for power with an unreachable ideal."

"Strong opinions coming from a mere criminal," said Ra's Al Ghul as he took a step closer. His hands were still crossed behind his back but his eyes intended insult.

"We are no different," said Bane evenly. He looked at Ra's Al Ghul with hard eyes. "Your kind of men rise and fall like an evening tide. Your vision of justice has been so ravaged that you no longer recognize it." He nodded in mild disbelief. "You're no more fearsome than the men in that prison," he said. "You've elevated yourself to a place where only weak men will follow, but you're one mortal man among many." If his words didn't cut deep, they had stung hard. He knew this before he started. Even one such as Ra's Al Ghul deserved the truth, however ugly it was.

"You pride yourself on honor, is it?" Said Ra's Al Ghul, his expression changing from condescension to anger in the lapse of a second. "I have seen much and more of the world than you have in your entire existence. Ignorance plagues the lot of it and greed dictates the rest. The men of this temple believe in the necessary balance of right and wrong. I do not expect you to understand such a concept."

"And yet, you took me in and trained me in the ways of the League," said Bane. "For all your judgment, you have given me the means to do as I will."

"I took you in so you would be far from Talia," said Ra's Al Ghul coldly. "She does not love you, if that is what you think."

Oh, it was all too much. They had been dancing this dance for too long. It had become tiresome, even for Bane. Everything he did was defined by his connection to Talia. Never in his life had he met such a stubborn man. It had been years and he still sought to create distance between two people who would not be separated. He was thankful that Talia didn't inherit the stubbornness her father had epitomized. It took everything in him not to laugh in that moment. This conversation was finished a long time ago.

"You have a good deal to learn from Talia," Bane said, throwing the older man a bone of sorts. "She's a perfectionist out of necessity. She was the one born in that hell and rose out of it." He took one last look at Ra's Al Ghul before heading for the door. "Her loving me should be the least of your concerns," he finished, never looking back at the older man. His hand grasped the knob when he stopped as he heard the last words.

"You are no longer a member of this league," said Ra's Al Ghul, his voice deep and final. "If you return to this temple, I will finish you myself." Bane turned his head sideways, acknowledging these words. A moment of thickest silence passed and then the air suddenly cleared again. It had been four long years with the master of the temple and he had learned all there was to learn. To say he regretted the words that came out of Ra's Al Ghul's mouth in that moment would have been a lie. He did all that he was told and his time was now finished. He opened the creaking wooden door wide and walked out into the breaking dawn.

It was unforgettably cold that morning. He tugged at the collar of his heavy leather coat and walked onwards. He was going back where he belonged. Back to Talia.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I wanted to capture a scene before Bane joined the League of Shadows, skip through the few years he spent with Ra's Al Ghul _in _the League of Shadows, and then to his moment of exile thereafter. So in that 2nd half, he was already a trained assassin. I'm sorry if that was confusing!

So I refreshed myself on some Bane lore and that's where the dialogue came into play here. Bane was one hell of a villain and I'm using more the angle of him being intelligent/conscientious to give him more humanity here (only in these beginning parts, mind you). I'll also tell you that binging on Tom Hardy films in the past 2 weeks has helped me envision a more attractive Bane altogether. I can't see Talia wanting to rip the shirt off a gigantic, venom-induced monster of a man. I'm just saying. (Hubba Hardy!)

Last, Bane and Talia will "try things without the mask" in the next couple of chapters. Hang tight, my brain is working out the kinks with that idea at the moment. I'm trying to write these characters as naturally as possible whilst racing down that smut highway. I'm working on it.

Thank you for the follows and as always, reviews are most welcome. Have a good one, folks.


	6. Chapter 5: Bruce

**Bruce**

He eyed his guest sharply from head to toe and noted all the particulars. The young cop was easily handsome but made no fuss of it, though he took care in maintaining that clean visage. He was confident but to a modest degree and was more helpful than boastful. He had strong opinions but spoke them only when asked. He listened well and was quick to learn. Bruce had at first mistaken his optimism for that of youthful naivete but he later came to realize that this young man was what Gotham needed more of. That is, until he broached the topic of Bruce's private life, or what was left of it anyway.

"Look, I'm not here to tell you how it's done," John Blake said, all confidence. "I'm just saying that you should cut yourself some slack." He looked as if he'd been debating whether or not to say his next words. "Take her for a sail on one of your yachts or something."

"Or something," said Bruce, his brow raised in question.

"Yeah," John said, his face perfectly serious. "You know, show her a good time." At this, he smirked.

_A real smartass, _Bruce thought. And not in any kind of disdainful way but an annoyingly endearing one. This kid had a knack for probing into his personal life and getting away with it. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, his face expressionless. He turned his back on John and looked down at the paperwork in front of him.

"Oh, come on," John said, shuffling from behind. He wasn't giving up so easily. Bruce turned around to face him once more. "You'll _keep it in mind_?" He asked, smiling his smartass smile. "So you're not even gonna consider the idea?"

"I never said that." He looked at John for a moment before the young cop laughed and broke all the seriousness in his face. He found it increasingly difficult to be stern around this kid, let alone _private_.

"She's-" John began, "-lovely," finished Bruce. "I'm aware of this."

"So what do you have to lose?" He asked, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, who wouldn't want a night out with Bruce Wayne?"

He had to laugh at this. John's smile faded into bewilderment as he stood there, blank-faced and wondering how the joke had gone over his head. "Have you dated many women?" Bruce asked seconds later, his tone serious again.

"A few," replied John. He raised a hand to massage the back of his neck and he was smiling like he knew some darkly entertaining secret no one else did. He did this whenever you asked him a question he had no problem answering, like now.

"That's nice," said Bruce, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "but Miranda Tate is a different kind of woman. She's a part of my world and she functions well in it."

"But she's still a _woman_," John said. "You can't tell me you're worried about her competing with you?"

"Women like her," he began, contemplating how best to articulate the thoughts swirling around in his head, "are not as interested in relationships as they are in other things."

"Sex," John concluded as he looked at Bruce with unblinking eyes.

"Not sex," he said, smiling. His gaze softened at the man standing before him. "She owns half of my company already," he said. "It'll be a matter of months before she owns the rest of it."

"And you're not interested in putting a price tag on yourself since she's already bought everything your parents built for you," John concluded, understanding all of what Bruce couldn't say.

"That's a big a part of it," he nodded.

All of his reasons for liking the young cop came rushing back to him. John had, in so many ways, reminded him of the younger brother he had always wanted. The one who would be just the opposite of who he was; someone bright and good, hopeful and spirited. He would balance the brooding darkness that always stirred inside Bruce, leaving him conflicted and angry at a world that took everything from him before he could say otherwise. John had come into his life like a burning flame, igniting both the shame and pride he thought he lost in the last 8 years. He dared not express it just yet, but he found himself reassured and almost liberated by the younger man's presence. Here was another who had seen eye to eye with him on nearly everything, who believed in his perception of the world and how important it was to protect the world at large. He trusted him without having to think any further on it. He knew John was good to his core.

"Well," John said, breaking the momentary silence, "I'd be the last person to judge you for what you do." And with that, the looming topic of Miranda Tate was closed.

"Thanks," Bruce said. He expected John to take his leave but saw that he stood there, his hands in his pockets and a curious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I found some traces of explosives last night," John said, his voice low. "Empty gallon containers that had been dumped by the Gotham River."

Bruce turned back around and thumbed through the stack of paperwork on the table. He pulled out what appeared to be an open police report detailing that discovery. "You guys opened this investigation but stopped looking," he said as he handed the report to John.

"They figured those empty containers were a dead end," John said as his eyes roamed the expanse of the report, taking in key information. "Mind if I keep this?"

"It's yours," Bruce said as he crossed his arms. He was staring at John as he continued scanning the report. "You shouldn't be roaming around the harbor at night. You don't know who's watching."

"Nobody's there," John said, simultaneously distracted and tuned in. A moment later, he folded the report and looked up. "These guys have moved underground and they've blocked off the main sewer entrances."

"I'll look into that tonight." John nodded as he headed for the door. "By the way," Bruce said, stopping John in his tracks, "have you always gone by the name of John Blake?" He saw John's eyes widen momentarily and then he smiled, figuring that _he _of all people would have known anyway.

"My real name is Dick Grayson," John said as he pulled his jacket on. "I changed it when I joined the police academy."

"I thought so," said Bruce. And with that, Dick Grayson gave him a curt nod as he left the sitting room and walked into the snowy afternoon. He walked over to the tall window and watched the young cop get into his car and then drive off. "Dick Grayson," he said to himself, thinking of how oddly familiar the name had sounded on his tongue.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I just couldn't get over the fact that Nolan didn't use Robin's actual name. I get that it might've distracted from all the other characters but still. I love Dick Grayson and his evolution to Nightwing, so I wanted to incorporate his actual name and use that from this point onward for Bruce's chapters. So I wanted to cover some ground between Bruce and John because they've got a great dynamic and we're exploring the "good" guys for a bit. Bear with me! Next chapter should be steamy with Talia and Bane getting intimate and all that jazz.

Note that Bruce's chapters are of the present day whilst the Talia and Bane chapters are of the past. We follow Talia and Bane through different stages and at some point, all three character perspectives will be on the same time line.

Thanks much for your support! It means a great deal. :)


	7. Chapter 6: Talia

**Talia**

The vase could've been made out of anything; a broken bottle, a cracked jar, half of a clay pot. It was all the same concept once you came down to it and she just needed a container of sorts. The flowers were surprisingly easy to find, despite all the darkness in that place. She came across the yellowish evening primroses quite often, and on the rare occasion she would chance upon a few moon flowers nestled in between the decaying rock. She would pluck only a few of these flowers and make her way back to the cell, where she dropped their long stems into the mouth of a container. Today she was lucky; there were both evening primroses and moon flowers in bloom, and she found a broken glass bottle that suited her needs perfectly. Her small fingers positioned the yellows and whites in opposite directions so that their bright colors complimented each other and lit up an otherwise dark prison cell.

She remembered Bane sitting on the cot one afternoon as he stared at her makeshift floral arrangement. His eyes were swimming with thoughts she couldn't see and he sat there for a long while before he spoke. "Life always finds a way," he said as his eyes remained fixed on the flowers. More of those incomprehensible thoughts were swirling in his cerulean eyes and then he smiled, blinked and looked down at her. She was sitting by the crate on which the flowers stood, admiring her work. "You've brightened up this dreadful place," he said, his full lips pulled up at their corners in that loving smile he always saved for her.

_Those lips were made to be kissed again and again, _Talia al Ghul thought as she looked at the man beside her now. The sound of his breathing had filled the room and wafted through the air, slow and humming. His chest rose and fell with each breath as he slept, and she could only wonder whether he had been dreaming and if so, what it was he was dreaming about. She placed a hand atop his chest and followed the rise and fall of his breath for a long while. His naked skin burned under her palm.

She had stood there for what seemed a lifetime when she felt him stir. He woke a moment later and instinctively grabbed hold of her wrist. She gasped and attempted to jerk her hand back but he was holding onto her, his grip tight and almost forceful. His eyes flew open and he had taken hold of both hands now, pinning her beneath him. The man hovering above her looked venomous, and the heat and force of his body was overpowering her senses. She looked into the eyes she knew so well and saw them lined in redness, sore from another nightmare. But it was different this time; there was something terrifying in that blazing glare, flashes of anger she had never seen before. He shut his eyes and opened them again as he attempted to rationalize the situation, but they continued to flicker with that powerful anger as he stared down at her. His mask hissed loudly as his breathing grew short and rapid. He leaned down and buried his face into her neck, the sharp metal pressing into her skin. "You're hurting me," she said in a strained voice. He immediately pulled back and looked at her, all traces of the terrifying anger gone but now replaced with a longing, hungry stare. She felt his grip release one of her hands as he proceeded to unbuckle the clasps on his mask. "Bane, no," she whispered and yet, her free hand had stayed above her head, refusing to follow her words. She could've cared less of consequence or concern in this moment. She knew what it was he wanted because she had wanted it all too desperately herself.

He undid the last clasp and the mask fell to the floor with a _thunk_. And there by the pale light of the moon was the unmasked face of the man she had loved since she was a little girl. A face more gorgeous in this moment than in all the others combined. Those lips, as ravaged as they had been, were still as lovely as ever. Her fingers brushed over that pout, ever so gently, and she smiled to herself. At that moment he grabbed her hand and pinned it above her head again, and then dived in to kiss her. His lips were warm, soft, and strangely sweet. His tongue had beckoned for her to open to him, desperate for entrance. He scrutinized all of her contours almost savagely, taking her in with each breath, refusing to come up for air. She moaned as he bit her lips in the midst of his hungry exploration, the stabs of pain sending currents through her body, spreading like a rising fire.

Once his lips had parted from hers and she was left breathless, he continued down to the crook of her neck, nibbling at the exposed skin with a tender force so ridiculously good that she thought she might have lost it if it weren't for the sudden coldness in the room as he drew away from her. He must have seen the look of surprise that borderlined annoyance because he smiled at her then, a soft but sad smile, as if he had been debating a million thoughts with himself. She realized he was struggling to control the senses that were coming back to him. _To hell with our senses, _she thought carelessly as her hands cupped his face and she rose to meet those lips once more. His strong arms wrapped around her as he raised her onto his lap, those long fingers gliding over every bare inch of skin they could find. The precariously thin lace gown she had been wearing was in shambles by the time he tore the thing off her. And there in the pale moonlight they had stared into each other's eyes. Her hands rested on his bare chest, his skin hard and burning. They traveled to his face where she brushed away the beads of sweat from his brow. Her fingers found his lips a moment later as she brushed over them tenderly again, fascination and desire mingling all at once.

_Time is what we've lost together, _she thought as she stared at him. Although everything that had happened up until this point seemed to matter less and less. The one she had loved - her _protector_, stood before her, more whole in this moment than ten men put together. Regardless of the seething pain that must have coursed through him then, he was in this just as much as she was. She had never felt more _right _with a man than she did there in his arms. Rugged arms that had enveloped her so fiercely through the years. Arms that would crush anyone who tried to hurt her.

And she saw the way he looked at her now, how his eyes were burning blue again as they roamed the length of her face and down the expanse of her naked body. She wondered what he was thinking of in that moment but dared not break their reverie with words. His hands traveled down from her neck and rested on her breasts, where he then looked at her as if he had seen the heavens for the first time. But she saw that look of torment on his face, as if he had been fighting to control his thoughts yet again. "It's okay," she said breathlessly as her hands found his. And then she leaned in and tugged on his earlobe, and he stiffened at her bite. "I'm yours," she whispered.

Silence enveloped them for a moment as the crisp ocean breeze wafted through the room. He leaned her gently back down to the bed, and his eyes never left hers as he removed what little clothing he had slept in. He dived in to kiss her a second later and the renewed contact sent a jolt of sensation to every nerve in her body. As his lips moved from her mouth to her collarbone, his hands had sweetly caressed every curve and contour he found, and she tossed her head back in a moan of desperation, her want rising like a tide. Her legs spread beneath him as she helped guide his manhood into her and in that moment, it was as if the world around them had stilled and they were the only ones in it. As he began his slow and steady rhythm inside her, she wrapped her legs tighter around him, granting him deeper entrance. His thrusts began to quicken with more force as he gradually lost control of what he had fought so hard to keep at bay. She groaned in dreary pleasure as he continued thrusting ever deeper, sending torrential waves of white-hot heat coursing through her. Her hand had cupped his face and then traced the length of his jawline, and he kissed her fingers sloppily as he concentrated on their dance, maintaining a rhythm that could've gone on for a lifetime if they willed it.

She watched his face inches away, his eyes lined with redness, his still beautiful mouth pink and sore from their kisses, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. He was working tirelessly for her even now, when she had wanted just as much to fulfill his own desires. But then she felt the white-hot heat rise higher than before, the wetness between them burning trails of fire everywhere. The beast inside her was climbing out of its depths and her groans became wild gasps of heightening pleasure. She screamed as she reached her climax and felt him release himself inside her in that same moment, a glorious explosion of desire so intensifying that the world had temporarily blurred around her. He collapsed into the crook of her neck minutes later, breathing huskily. She shuddered involuntarily when he had pulled himself out of her, the disconnect too sudden for her senses. But where one touch was broken, another was established as they entangled themselves around each other once more. She rested comfortably on his chest as his arms enveloped her, his warmth now becoming an absolute comfort to her, his touch one she could never imagine living without.

And yet somewhere deep down inside of her, she knew this shouldn't have happened. But it was difficult to accept such a ludicrous thought when this life she had with Bane had become a perfect one.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So there was this photo of Tom Hardy at a premiere and he was wearing an all-black suit and still had his Bane look about him, except he had a little scruff and I wanted to link it here to show you but I can't link! What a bummer. Anyway, I meant to say that that _was_ Bane in all his perfected Tom Hardy glory, and that's the Bane we'd all pounce if we could. And after the intimacy between these two lovebirds, I'm as convinced as much as Cal Hockley when he said (in reference to the Titanic), **"It is unsinkable. God himself could not sink this ship." **Yes, I just quoted d-bag Cal because he couldn't have been more right, my friends.

Thank you very much for the continued support! Please review!


	8. Chapter 7: Bane

**Bane**

The agony of realizing what happened after the fact may have hurt more than the pain itself, however excruciating it was. How cruel the Gods were, Bane thought, to have given him the sweetest moment of his life if only to take it away just as quickly, and with consequence to boot. His sense of self-loathing may have been immeasurable if it weren't for the gnawing realization that he had completely and utterly lost himself in that moment. His tireless years spent honing his discipline and perfecting his ethic meant close to nothing once he felt that fire blaze through his veins. To lose control so easily was something he didn't accept lightly and his emotions continued to contradict themselves, justifying both ends of the spectrum. Where one thought was right, another was wrong. Where his heart had beckoned for him to open, his mind had told him it to close it. But that night...

_That night..._ His mind wandered. He saw her pretty face again, the way her features softened as she slept, her cares gone with her dreams. How fair she was in the pale moonlight, her skin so smooth, those scars accentuating her beauty more than he could say. He turned over so that he now stared at the darkened ceiling above and watched as bursts of starlight danced into the room. His eyes roamed aimlessly until they closed and he drifted into sleep.

The glen beside the river was bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. She was propped against the massive trunk of a redwood tree, a leather-bound book splayed across her lap and an empty thermos lying beside her. "I had never seen so many flowers in one room," she said as she closed the book gingerly, her hand smoothing over the cover. She looked down at him. "People were there from dusk till dawn, dropping by even when mom was asleep." A spring breeze wafted through the clearing and a lock of her dark wavy hair fell down past a shoulder. She looked over to the river and nodded with a blissful smile. "He was such a beautiful baby." And then she turned back to him and leaned in for a kiss. Her lips were minty and sweet. He had but another second to savor it before the lush vision momentarily blurred into darkness and opened into light again.

He was standing in the middle of a bazaar. People were all around him, waving their hands in animated motions, their mouths moving soundlessly as they hollered at each other. Everywhere he looked there were strange and familiar objects, from the polished glass on hookah pipes to the busy patterns on head scarves and shawls. Brightly colored fabric tarps overhead covered the expanse of the marketplace, shielding any and all from the eastern sun. He saw her coming out of a doorway laughing with a man who appeared to be the shop owner. As soon as she said her goodbye, she made her way over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, she dangled a golden necklace in front of him, a grin spreading across her face. The necklace was a pretty thing, the octagonally cut ruby gemstone sparkled from its thin gold chain. "He said he couldn't refuse such a pretty lady," she said, mischief twinkling in her dark eyes. "If he realized this was going back to its rightful owner, the greedy bastard would have locked it in his safe for good." She looked at the necklace and then tucked it back into her purse. Then he felt her fingers loop around his as she beckoned for him to walk with her. He wanted to tell her that it was good she took back what was her mother's but as he moved his lips, silence replied in turn. He was mute, although she might as well have heard his thoughts because she nodded then. "This necklace is the only thing I have left of her," she said rather quietly. And despite the level of noise that enveloped them, he'd heard the undertones of sadness reverberate off every syllable. They moved further down the block hand in hand and he noticed that she was greeting every other shop owner with a wave of her hand and the contagious smile on her face. As he committed his surroundings to memory, the world before him had begun turning into a canvas of melting color. He was pulled back into darkness once more.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see an ominous gray sky. It was going to rain today. She stirred beside him, her head cradled comfortably between the feather pillows and his arm. She must have come in sometime during the night as she often did lately. He turned over on his side to get a better look at the early morning view and her eyes fluttered open in response to his movement. She shifted under the sheets and then stretched her arms above her head, exhaling a long and lazy yawn. She was now facing him and nudged in just a bit closer. His eyes wandered from the gloomy sky down to the woman before him, and he saw those dark eyes and that wavy brunette hair falling over her bare shoulders. He blinked in disbelief. "Rana," he whispered under his breath as the hammering in his chest nearly rendered him deaf. Time had stopped in that brief moment before he heard the distant call of his name again. He blinked and saw Talia in front of him now, her brow raised in question. "Bane," he heard her say, loud and clear, "are you alright?" He nodded absentmindedly, failing to meet her eyes. A second later he sat upright and removed the coverlet. He stared at the wall in front of him, his thoughts speeding by so fast that he couldn't catch a hold of any. And then her hand closed around his arm, the contact suddenly breaking him out of his trance. He instinctively moved back from her, forcing her hand to fall away as he got off the bed. He picked up his mask off the bedside table and turned for the bathroom. "Need to wash up," he said quickly as he dashed out of the room.

He slammed the bathroom door shut from behind and stood there for a few seconds, gathering himself. He had almost forgotten about the pain that was now creeping into the hypersensitive nerves on his face when he looked down at his mask and then to his morning dose of medication on the counter. He threw back the sizable dose of pills with a large gulp of water and closed his eyes. He had cupped the sink with both hands by then when he gazed blankly into the mirror and suddenly remembered his dream.

It had been a little over 15 years and these recollections had played in his mind's eye like a film reel. Before he could stop himself, he recalled the glen beside the river with utmost clarity... It was a place they had discovered together, where no one else had touched prior. They had spent many afternoons there, talking and kissing and reading. The bazaar was in Cairo, and had become one of their favorite spots to frequent on Friday afternoons. She had been fond of the people and their wares, and made it a point to support their local business whenever she could. Naturally, he was there with her.

_But these were no dreams_, he thought as the sounds and smells came rushing back to him. They were his memories, buried so deep that rediscovering them might as well have been a dream. He thought he had done everything to keep them buried, to slowly forget as the years passed. Yet in the span of a night, Rana had become real again. Every part of her came flooding back to him; her dark brown eyes, that long brunette hair, her thoughtful face. She was always thinking, always pondering the ways of the world. And her family... Her brother had meant the world to her. As he fastened the remaining clasps on his mask, he wondered where she was right now. Was she alright? Had she found her way back home?

The sky outside remained a sunless gray as Bane made his way back to Talia, ever thoughtful.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the mini hiatus. I was at a standstill with this story until a new idea popped into my head. Well, not so new as I had saved this for a separate fic but I began throwing out some connections and realized this may very well work within the context we've already set up in these first chapters.

Everyone's got a past, including Bane. He just doesn't realize how interconnected all of the people in his life are until future events occur. Rana will be the link between everyone and it's going to be epic. Can't foreshadow more than that.

A note regarding the last chapter... Why did Bane and Talia get together so fast? Why not? I was going to drag it out but it just didn't make sense to do that. These two have clearly been in love with each other at every level of their relationship and getting intimate would happen sooner than later. Of course, as you can see, Bane is trying to come to terms with this because somewhere deep down, he knows there will be consequences.

Please take a moment to review the story and let me know your thoughts. Brevity is not one of my strong points as I prefer to take my time with things but I'm getting there. In the mean time, words of encouragement do help! Thanks very much for reading.


	9. Chapter 8: Bruce

**Bruce**

It seemed only a few hours ago when the sky outside his window looked like a postcard, the morning snowfall draping everything in crisp whiteness. Now it had darkened considerably and Bruce wondered where the day had gone. He couldn't remember the last time Gotham had been buried in so much snow. He was seated on the plush velvet couch beside the great stone fireplace, its flames crackling noisily. The light of the fire had illuminated the nearby shelves in the library, breathing color into all of his old books. Alfred hadn't drawn the curtains just yet so he could see for himself how bad the storm had become outside. He was thumbing through some of the police reports John had bought over when the door opened and in walked the young cop himself, followed by Alfred and his tray of tea and sandwiches.

"It's ugly out there," said John as he seated himself on the identical couch opposite Bruce.

"Many of the local businesses have had to close earlier than anticipated," chimed in Alfred. He placed the contents of the tray onto the coffee table and then tucked the silver platter under an arm. "Will Mr. Blake be staying the night, sir?"

Bruce looked from Alfred to John and then nodded. "You can't go anywhere in this storm," he finished. Then he noticed a flash of mild embarrassment wash across John's face.

"We have plenty of room," Alfred said to John. "I'm sure you are similar in size to Master Bruce when he was your age." John raised a brow at Alfred, to which he then responded with, "Pajamas, sir."

"Oh," said John with a smile, "that works for me." He picked up a neatly cut portion of a turkey sandwich and shoved it into his mouth as he looked from Alfred to Bruce. "So how much do you know about Bane?" He asked in between bites.

"Enough to know that he's bad news," Bruce said as he looked at the mess of paperwork sprawled out on his end of the coffee table. He had combed through all of the news articles, napkins with semi-readable scribbles on them and police reports for a week now. "He was excommunicated from the League of Shadows," he told John. He then proceeded to explaining Bane's relationship with Ra's, how he had been an exceptional assassin but his rise to influence had been short lived the moment he and Ra's cut ties. At the mention of Ra's' personal life, John perked up.

"Did Ra's not have a daughter, sir?" Alfred asked, standing between them as still as a statue.

"Talia al Ghul," said Bruce, "born in Peña Dura. Rumor has it that she escaped."

"That's a bleak thought," said John. He looked up at Alfred and the butler's expressionless face forced him to elaborate. "You know, being born and raised in a prison." Alfred agreed with a curt nod.

"She could be dead," Bruce said. "I don't see a child surviving that place, much less escaping it."

"Does the girl have any relevance to Bane, sir?"

"I don't think so, but I wanted as much background perspective on Ra's as I could gather." At this, Bruce paused for a moment. "It's a strange thing," he mused as he looked from Alfred to John, "that two children from different parts of the world could grow up the same way." John frowned, his brow raised in confusion.

"You were well taken care of, Master Bruce," Alfred said assuredly, his face still the same expressionless mask it had always been. He looked to John. "Things were never quite the same after Mr. and Mrs. Wayne passed," he said. "Master Bruce often kept to himself."

"I've always thought of this mansion as a prison of sorts," said Bruce as he looked at John. "My entire life had been defined by these walls. The world outside had been watching me through a magnifying glass. To venture out was a risk I grew accustomed not to take. Why should I? My parents were dead and Alfred was taking care of me. For all I knew, I never had to walk into the real world at all."

"Was it just you two?" John asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. Alfred looked at Bruce, his brows raised in uncertainty, as if John had asked a question they weren't sure they wanted to answer. Bruce figured there was no point in hiding these ridiculous notions of childhood. Too many years had passed.

"For the most part," he answered. He looked at Alfred. "It was always just the two of us." A particular collection of Oxford publications behind John's head had suddenly caught his attention and he lost himself in a moment of thought.

The great stone wall that once barred his memories came crumbling down and everything had rolled out like a massive tide. He could see it all, not one bit of detail lost. He remembered how the stone steps in the foyer turned a warm sandy brown during the holidays. Giant wreaths of holly were draped everywhere and the intertwining lights within had illuminated everything around them. When it was dark in the evenings, the mansion looked like a Christmas palace. He remembered the voices of his parents and their friends, raised in uninterrupted happiness. This mansion had been his castle, his haven of safety, his home. Before he dived further into the hole he had been working so hard to stay out of, her form appeared in his mind's eye like a roadblock. She was a little girl with dark features but unlike the rest of his memories, her details were blurred and undefined. He could never make out what color eyes she had. All he saw was a small ghostly figure who stood as still as a suit of armor. Always there, always looking at him.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's distant voice echoed. He closed his eyes and shook himself out of his trance. He looked back at John and Alfred.

"I... I was just thinking about this place all those years ago," he said quietly. "The holidays. My parents."

"I'm sorry," said John. He looked at the young cop and smiled. There was nothing to be sorry about, he thought, _just an older man coming down with nostalgia_. "Well, I'm gonna head to bed," John went on. He rose and raised a hand to stop Alfred from following. "It's the 3rd floor, 1st room to the right, isn't it?" When Alfred nodded, he smiled at them both and exited the library.

"It's rather late, Master Bruce," Alfred said.

Bruce was staring into the flames that whirled in their blue and orange hues. "Who was she, Alfred?" He asked, the ghostly girl in his memory trailing his thoughts like an old rag. He looked up into his butler's eyes and saw that they betrayed an otherwise expressionless face. Alfred walked over to the great fireplace and looked into the flames.

"You will excuse me, sir," Alfred began, "for refusing to answer your question."

At that moment, Bruce stared at the profile of his butler, standing there amidst the crackling fire. A tear had rolled down the cheek of the old man's face. A face that had been worn by years of love, loyalty and service.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the hiatus! Work was consuming the better part of me but now I'm a free bird and can steer my focuses elsewhere. I'm not one to ask for reviews but decided to try that on this story. Didn't get much of a response with that so I decided not to make this much of a priority. I'm sure there are people out there reading this and I appreciate that, and will continue this more for myself than anything else. Bear with me.

Been looping the ever stellar Dark Knight Rises soundtrack to get back into Nolanverse. Ser Hans, I salute you.


	10. Chapter 9: Talia

**Talia**

It kept swirling round and round, like the vacuous space of a never ending void. There was no telling how deep it flowed, to what end it stopped. It was dark, scalding and ominous. She watched as bubbles formed and then disappeared.

_Ding. _The dark matter had become strangely fascinating. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

_Ding. _She watched as the milky substance entered the void and joined the swirling flow of liquid, disappearing within a matter of seconds.

_Ding. _The new espresso machine finished its first brew of the day. She stared into the cup of black coffee, its surface a smooth pane of brown glass, still and unmoving. _Rana_, she thought as the name flashed in her head like a marquee. She didn't know what to make of it... So Bane had secrets. _Are we not entitled to secrets of our own? _The answer might have been obvious, except she didn't want to go down that road just yet.

He had been detached and distant these last few days. She didn't want to think of how a life-changing night together had turned into an awkward morning apart. But the sudden distance from the man she loved had forced her to think of the reality of such a situation. What did she ultimately want? Love at the end of all things? Revenge beyond redemption? _A meaningful career and future with a mercenary? _She laughed dryly to herself. However much she wished, normalcy would never find its way to her. She knew this and accepted it a long time ago. But there were moments when even she would idealize reality. _But I love him_, she thought. He was there before other men came into her life - even before her father. More importantly, she trusted him. He wasn't just the man she loved; he was her friend, protector, ally, mentor.

She couldn't shake the feeling of sudden uncertainty, of how easily affected she was in the course of a few days. She couldn't fight back the wayward thoughts. She couldn't help but think of the many secrets that Bane had been keeping from her. She couldn't wash away the image of him refusing to even look at her in the last few days. Was that all it took - a mere memory to tear him away from her so easily? And in the same moment, she hated herself for thinking these things. Anyone else would have rationalized the situation and given him his space because it was their duty to do so and also because it was none of their business. She trusted him and as such, believed he knew what he was doing. Bane wasn't a stupid man by any degree, elsewise she would never have fallen in love with him.

"No one can tell you how best to live," she heard her father say in his commanding voice. It was another chilly night in the temple atop the mountain, and another lonely dinner with her old man. It was the same every day since she found him. Whenever they took dinner, there was one table set in the center of that cold dining hall. The braziers on either side of them were lit so there was just enough warmth to sit down for the duration of the meal. There was the great crest of the League of Shadows on the wall opposite the doorway, its dark steel glinting mysteriously in the firelight. She looked up at her father and then at his hands. She had always found his hands most fascinating of all. There were so many scars, so many marks adorning his skin. "Do you hear me, Talia?" Her father's voice broke her train of thought. She looked back up at him. "This is important," he said, his eyes hard and unwavering. "You are the daughter of Ra's al Ghul. You will control your own destiny when the time comes."

"Yes, father," her small voice had said.

There were days when they didn't have enough wood for the fires because the mountain had been buried in snow. She would huddle in a corner with the rest of the men and attempt to find whatever comfort she could in the warmth of their bodies. It was during these moments when she wondered why she sought out her father in the first place. Could she not have ventured into a nearby village or city and work as an errand girl or someone's assistant cook? Could she not have stood on the streets to sell the wares of her merchant boss? He always told her things she didn't understand. "One day, you'll remember my words," he'd say. "When the need for them arises." Of course, she was never one to disobey her father. She knew how much he had loved her. The feeling was mutual. Still, her perceptive abilities didn't prevent her from also seeing that it was her father who had left her mother in that prison and it was Bane, not him, who had saved her. She had spent the better part of her adolescence contemplating that dark fact more than anything. It wasn't until later in life when she realized that her father had been right about the ugly side of life, where you had to do certain things to get what you wanted. There was always a tradeoff.

"To love another is to weaken oneself," her father told her when she was older. "The love I bore your mother was used against me and in turn, I lost her."

"But what do we become if we can't love someone else?" She asked feebly.

"We are stronger for it, my Talia. Our ambitions are realized and perfected this way." He looked older these days. Less invincible, less commanding. He raised a large hand to cup her cheek and said, "I don't ever want another man to hurt you. You must not allow it." She nodded, unable to voice words as her throat ran dry and she fought back tears. It was strange and liberating to hear such words come out of her father's mouth. He was nothing if not strict and unrelenting but there were moments like this when his true character would show, when he would strip away the mask he had been wearing for most of his life.

And so it was her father who came to mind now that she pondered Bane's sudden change of heart. Or whatever this distance signified. For the first time in a long time, Talia thought of her own ambitions. She had spent the last couple of years thinking of Bane's well being. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it came down to her guilt. Her love for him was always there, yes, but she felt responsible for what had been done to him when she escaped. This temporary separation from him had forced her to see things a bit more clearly. It was time to get back to work. Time to get back into the extensive research she had done following her father's untimely death. No one could dissuade her ambitions once she set her mind to it. No matter how many attempts Bane made to discourage her actions, she wouldn't let go of it. Avenging her father's death was something she had to do. More for herself than anyone else. Her time with Bane these last two years had distracted her from this duty. She had fallen into a false sense of comfort and security. These thoughts began fueling old desires within her all at once, both daunting and rejuvenating. She had strayed too far from what she initially set out to do.

_Love. _The one thing that could weaken her inconsiderably, bit by bit. The one thing that would make her unrecognizable to herself. She had loved Bane all her life but she wasn't the woman to give up her ambitions for something as foolish as love. Somewhere deep inside, she hoped that Bane had not done so either.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

We're finally getting into Talia's head and heart. She's contemplative and in the process becoming inadvertently selfish. Her ambitions are more pronounced. I see Talia as a woman with an almost childish immaturity. She has clearly done a lot in her life but her ambitions tend to blind her from the actual reality of what's going on. Take Bane's treatment of her lately. She's overthinking it and taking the problem far out of context. Before we know it, she comes to the conclusion that she needs to think more of herself than of him. It doesn't really occur to her that Bane may be going through something personal, that he may actually need her help. It's as if she kicked into a different gear because she felt wronged by him.

Also, a note on the timeline of this story... Bruce's chapters are more of the current day while the Talia and Bane ones are of the past. I'm going to bring Talia and Bane up to speed in the next few chapters and then everyone will be in the same time frame. Sorry if that was confusing at some point. I just enjoy diving into the possibilities of the past.

Thanks for your continued support and reviews. Please keep them coming. Love y'all.


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